


Festive Cheer

by Lilitia



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Caroling, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Dinner, Eventual Smut, M/M, Mistletoe, Snow, Snowball Fight, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21837655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilitia/pseuds/Lilitia
Summary: A series of short scenes between Aziraphale and Crowley during the festive period during their 11 years of service for the Dowlings.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Gift Exchange





	1. Nativity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nununununu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Good Omens, I've just seen the TV show and borrowing the book and playing in the sandbox.
> 
> Lilitia: This is my first AO3 challenge, and I really hope I've fulfilled your request, Nununununu. You asked for fluff and smut, so here's eight chapters of hopefully fluffy interaction between Aziraphale and Crowley, and one chapter (the final) of my first attempt to write M/M smut.
> 
> Feel free to give constructive criticism, I will do my best to improve and update. :)

Aziraphale caught the swagger that ended in a cocked hip behind him, seconds later followed by the jerky movement of a quick shot of liquor. The shadow of a reflection in the nearby glass. "You still put that up?" Crowley croaked. Aziraphale wasn't sure if it was the effect of the alcohol or some kind of internal conflict.

"It's Christmas, the nativity scene is integral." Aziraphale reminded him firmly.

"All a bit pointless now though..." Crowley countered.

"This is nothing but a test." Aziraphale retorted firmly, as if he stilled believed that. Maybe he did. Crowley didn't need to know about any doubt, no one needed to know if he had any doubt. That was a personal and private matter. "This is all part of the divine plan, the bottom line. We've had this conversation."

"We were drunk!" Crowley objected.

"Actually, we'd sobered up by then." Aziraphale corrected smugly, and Crowley's head jerked back in a frown as the demon thought, albeit drunkenly. He only caught the way Crowley's head jolted in the reflection in the glass in the picture frame, but he could well imagine the confused, drunken frown. He'd seen it all too many times over the millennia. He had a particular fondness for making Crowley recreate the expression whenever he could.

There was a pause in which Aziraphale picked up the next figurine, one of the shepherds, the likeness was long lost, but he knew. They'd been there after all. It took all of his willpower to resist running his thumb over the face of the figurine and instead moved to place it an appropriate distance away from the stable. "That's so not the point!" Crowley eventually decided. "You must see the irony of putting up a shrine to christ in the home of the anti-christ!"

"Not so loud!" Aziraphale turned to scold the demon.

Crowley scoffed before taking another swig of whatever foul liquor he had in that glass. "Please, all of the Dowlings are asleep." He retorted as if it were obvious. Aziraphale gave him a dubious look. "Christmas miracle." Crowley shrugged.

"I guess that also explains your new - or should I say old? - attire?" Aziraphale asked doing his level best to not roll his eyes.

"I mean, it would scandalise the _Cultural Attaché_ to learn that the nanny to his child is in fact a man, let alone a demon." Crowley with deliberate emphasis to mock the title and leaning forward as he briefly lifted his sunglasses to remind Aziraphale of his eyes. It wasn't often that Crowley revealed his eyes to anyone anymore, even Aziraphale, who'd seen them dozens of times before over the millennia, starting from their beginnings in the garden. Aziraphale swallowed and straightened his collar - momentarily missing his suit and tie -, hoping that Crowley assumed him to be unnerved not forcing himself to not count the number of colours he could still see in those depths. That was off limits.

"Given the reason that demon is in his home, I'm not sure that's his biggest problem." Aziraphale corrected.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that demon the reason the angel is also present?" Crowley added lightly.

"I'm not sure how that's relevant..."

Crowley, however, had sauntered past Aziraphale to the figurines he'd just put up. Tapping baby Jesus on the head before turning his attention to the shepherds that Aziraphale had just finished arranging. "Who was that guy?" He asked.

Aziraphale turned a slightly guilty look on Crowley. "A local farmer, I never got his name." Crowley half chuckled with a sort of 'huh' sound as if this was a telling remark before he sauntered off again.


	2. Mince pies

It was unusual for Crowley to be in the kitchen, even when playing the role of Nanny Ashtoreth. However, he was making an exception this year, as little Warlock was finally old enough to be on solid foods, and it was time to introduce him to that most satanic of Christmas foods. Finally pleased with his efforts he loaded up a serving tray and took them through to the living room where Mr and Mrs Dowling were seated, engrossed in their respective reading - Mr Dowling reports and briefings for the remainder of his pre-Christmas schedule, and Mrs Dowling one of Crowley's preferred erotic novels that just mysteriously happened to appear on her bookshelf, he viewed it as a favour - and Warlock playing with a set of plastic dinosaurs on the floor.

Crowley only just hid his smirk as Warlock promptly had his T-Rex stomp, growl and munch on his inferior herbivores. Not that dinosaurs had ever been real, mind, but they taught a good lesson on the food chain that was particularly gruesome and captivated the young. "A Christmas treat." He announced as he offered the plate around.

"Pastries?" Mrs Dowling asked curiously.

"Mince pies." Crowley explained. "Very British." He added as if it were important.

Mr Dowling took one with barely a glance up from his work, Mrs Dowling was eyeing the plate too apprehensively to notice the look on his face when he bit into it, the pause one gives when they taste something so very different than they were expecting. Years of politics intuitively kicked in an Mr Dowling's poker-face was back by the time he swallowed the mouthful by which time Mrs Dowling had plucked out her own treat. "Me too, me too!" Warlock cheered excitedly as Crowley turned to him as well. Crowley smiled and offered him the plate and his little hands clutched the sugary pies and all but smashed it into his eager face. A second later the offending food was spat back out with a disgusted noise that Mrs Dowling looked like she very much shared.

Crowley managed to temper his delighted chuckle at the angry, betrayed look on Warlock's face into a concerned frown. "Look at the mess you've made, mister. Let's get you cleaned up." He added, firmly hoisting the young boy up with one hand whilst still carrying the tray in the other. Now they knew it was tradition out here, he could inflict it on them and any visitors every year, preferably more than once. They were too polite and too well trained to argue against tradition.

They arrived in the kitchen to the smell of baking, that wasn't due to Crowley's efforts. "Oh, deary me, what happened to you, young sir?" Aziraphale asked as he saw the food splattered down Warlock's front as Crowley lifted him into a chair at the table after putting down the plate of mince pies.

"Nanny Ash made me eat one of them!" Warlock said accusingly as he pointed at the offending plate.

"I did not." Crowley retorted, taking a cloth to firmly brush off the boy's front.

"Did too!"

Crowley glared at the boy, who would not be cowed by that look anymore. Crowley would have to practise his glare over their time off over the holidays. Instead as his back was turned Aziraphale nudged another plate towards the young boy. "Here, a different Christmas treat." He whispered as if it was forbidden.

Warlock's face instantly brightened as he saw the plate was filled with biscuits, shaped and decorated like snowmen, christmas trees, stars, Father Christmas and more. He plucked out an angel and instantly bit it's head off with a happy smile just as Crowley turned back around. His annoyance at Aziraphale's meddling instantly replaced with pride that Warlock chose to behead the angel. "Right, you're done." He declared after another couple of firm brushes with the cloth to remove all the crumbs and filling from the boy.

Warlock bounded happily down from his chair. "Take these through for your parents." Aziraphale added, handing him the plate, and neither angel nor demon was sure how many would survive the quick trip back to the living room. Aziraphale turned to the plate of mince pies. "Really? Mince pies?"

Crowley shrugged. "They are so deliciously disgusting."

Aziraphale shook his head in exasperation before finally sighing. "I must admit, they are one of your better works."

"Actually, humans invented them." Crowley corrected quietly. "I just did enough encouraging to make them traditional."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "Of course you did."


	3. Christmas trees

"Does our young Warlock still call you Nanny Ash?" Aziraphale asked as Crowley entered his little shed with a dark look upon his face.

Crowley spared the angel the briefest of glares. He really should have thought up a better name, a more child friendly name than Ashtoreth. That would teach him to take a biblical name not associated with Christianity just to torture Aziraphale with the irony. The Babylonian goddess of love and war. It had been an inspiration that had been too good an opportunity to pass up, that over the years he had come to regret as his young charge simply called him Nanny Ash, which was just... drab. Still, it was better than Warlock butchering the pronunciation of Ashtoreth again. If only Aziraphale hadn't gotten such pleasure at his expense because of it, that had not been the plan. Instead he simply retrieved the bottle of whiskey from under one of the potted plants. "I take it you don't mind..?" He asked, the question irrelevant as he was already swigging.

Aziraphale just about hid the displeasure from his face, he did wish that Crowley had just an ounce more respect for other people's possessions. Oh, who was he kidding, there was a gray area of possessions and sin, so Crowley was probably doing him a favour by relieving him of the more... frivolous ones. Or at least, that's what he told himself. Instead he unearthed himself a hidden, favourite vintage of wine to join him. "I take it you're to blame for filling Warlock's head full of nonsense about Christmas trees?"

Crowley shrugged as he dropped to the floor to slouch against a wall, looking particularly undignified in his skirts. "I didn't tell him about the child sacrifice." He retorted, as if that were worthy of praise. "Though your lot started all that with Abraham."

"Isaac was spared."

"Only because you stepped in."

Aziraphale said nothing on Crowley's use of the pronoun. "The greater the test, the greater the faith." Crowley snorted. "You should not be filling the boy's head with paganism. He needs a good, biblical education, to learn to love all living things."

"I don't recall paganism being against that."

Aziraphale looked like he was developing a headache, and Crowley only just hid his smirk into the bottle. This was probably why he fell, he hadn't intended to be bad at the beginning, he just had a habit of questioning things too readily. Testing. It turned out, however, he was damn good at being bad. Aziraphale didn't like questioning, it made him uncomfortable, and Crowley did so enjoy making the angel squirm.


	4. Christmas dinner

"What is wrong?" Crowley asked as he noticed Aziraphale half-heartedly pushing a roast potato around his plate. Something was very, very wrong if Aziraphale was not enjoying his food. Especially if another Christmas miracle had enabled them to get tables at one of his favourite restaurants for a properly traditional Christmas feast.

"We cannot keep these characters up forever." Aziraphale explained unhappily. "We will need new identities."

"I will need a new identity." Crowley corrected with a flourish of a sprout loaded fork to himself. "A boy only needs a nanny for so long, the residence will always need a gardener."

"I think they are getting suspicious of me." Aziraphale admitted, neatly cutting his food up as he picked away at his plate, enjoying every mouthful and determined to make sure he only picked up flavours that complimented each other each time.

Crowley considered that. "You do rather give off the impression that you don't do any work." He agreed. "And what is with the birds?" He asked with deliberate spacing between his words as if the question alone could make Aziraphale realise that a stupid idea that had been.

"What is with that dog?" Aziraphale retorted.

Well, that caused a stalemate as they'd both been posed questions they didn't want to answer. They ate in silence for a moment, Aziraphale politely dismissing a waiter that came to check on them before Crowley had a chance to do so in an undignified or impolite manner. "The Dowlings are discussing his education." Crowley finally broke the silence. "They don't know whether to send him to a nice posh school, or to hire world class tutors for him."

Aziraphale perked up. "I don't suppose that they could be swayed down one course?" Crowley shrugged as he was unable to speak for the large - unnecessarily so, Aziraphale would say - mouthful of food he was currently chewing. "We can hardly use a miracle to interfere with the ineffable." Aziraphale continued.

Finally Crowley was able to speak again. "Does it matter? Either way we can find ourselves a way in." He questioned.

"It would be much harder to acquire jobs at a private boarding school." Aziraphale corrected as if it were obvious.

"They'll still need support staff." Crowley corrected. "We'll find a way. Think of all the things we've accomplished between us, a little thing like a private school is hardly going to stop us." Aziraphale considered that carefully, the demon had a point. "Or, if all else fails, we can always burn the school down."

"My dear!" Aziraphale scolded sharply, Crowley just turned an innocent expression on the angel, who sighed sharply, resisting the urge to pinch his nose as that would only encourage the demon to sass him further. "It would be easier to send a letter apologising but due to an administrative error he cannot attend."

"Either way." Crowley agreed before filling his fork to the brim again.


	5. Holiday jumpers

"Would you stop doing that?" Aziraphale asked, looking up from the homework he was marking. He had issued Warlock with images of particularly high renown, pleasing and pious works of art - suitable for Warlock's young age - and asked the young sir to describe what he thought about them. He was unsure if he was pleased by the horrifically boring responses of what appeared to be a normal young boy. He was choosing to be optimistic about the lack of demonic tendencies in the answers.

"What?" Crowley asked, turning back from the window he was currently leaning out of to have a quick smoke whilst Warlock had his lunch break. Mrs Dowling didn't like it if he smoked in the house, but it was freezing outside and he'd rather not.

"You are letting the cold in." Aziraphale grumbled with the sternest look the angel could manage, and Crowley just chuckled before leaning back out of the window. His card game abandoned on the table nearby - on the semi-frequent occasions he set homework, he rarely bothered to mark it.

"It's bracing, isn't it?" Crowley retorted putting on a gleeful poker-face, taking joy in Aziraphale attempting not to frown at him and thinking of a rebuke that was fair. Sometimes the demon wished the angel would just cut loose, say what he really thought, but no, Aziraphale was too good for that. Other times, he preferred that.

Aziraphale was spared from having to think of an appropriate scolding as the door opened, and in a flash and a twirl Crowley closed the window and crushed the cigarette in his fist behind his back. Aziraphale rolled his eyes at the frankly misappropriate use of a miracle. The well made up head of Mrs Dowling appeared moments later. "Ah, Mr Cortese, Mr Harrison." She greeted, as if pleased she had found them. "I know it's not quite Christmas yet, but we got you each a gift for the festive season." She explained, passing each of them a brightly coloured parcel. "He would never admit it, but Warlock picked them out."

"How delightful." Aziraphale - Mr Cortese - replied brightly.

"Yeah, thanks. You shouldn't have." Crowley - Mr Harrison - agreed in a more subdued manner, eyeing the present suspiciously.

"Well, go on then." Mrs Dowling prompted with a clap of her hands before waving one at each present.

Aziraphale and Crowley shared a look, before the demon shrugged and they both took to opening their presents with differing levels of enthusiasm. Upon revealing the contents, neither was sure if angel or demon was more surprised or aghast about it.

"Well, it's..." Crowley started as he held up a bright green knitted jumper that he presumed was supposed to be some kind of elf.

"Lovely." Aziraphale finally managed with a bright smile, tucking away his horror at the monstrosity of the reindeer patterned brown knitwear he currently held, pleased that Mrs Dowling's eyes betrayed the slightest bit of relief that this whole thing was over. He gave Crowley the briefest of looks to stop the demon from dropping them in it, and Mrs Dowling left them to it with a smile on her face, closing the door behind her and promising to find Warlock to finish up his lunch.

"I take back what I said about poker." Crowley added. Only earlier that day he'd been teasing Aziraphale that he'd be able to clean the angel out at cards because he had no poker-face.

"She doesn't really expect us to wear these... does she?" Aziraphale asked, pleading with Crowley to give him an out.

Crowley scrutinised his jumper with a tilt of his head. "You know... I saw one of these with Death wearing a Santa costume... Do you think she'd notice?"

For once Aziraphale didn't even chastise Crowley for the inappropriate use of miracles. Unfortunately before either of them decided if the Dowlings would, Warlock returned from his lunch, full of energy and pretending to be the hero from the latest action film, and making lots of noises that neither Aziraphale nor Crowley understood, so they both dropped the jumpers and kicked them under the table out of the way and continued their lesson rota for the day.


	6. Carol Singers

"What is that racket!?" Crowley demanded as he staggered through his luxurious apartment - half drunk - towards the front door where the noise was coming from. He was only slightly aware of the skittering of glass as he kicked an empty bottle on his journey, before throwing open the door. "What?" He almost shouted but turning into complete shock as he took in the scene in front of him.

Carol singers.

He glared behind his sunglasses, thinking up unique, brilliant and devilish curses for each and every one of them before his eyes landed on a familiar and sheepish figure in the middle and his mind stopped in it's tracks.

Aziraphale had almost skipped an entire verse when the door opened, he had not realised that Crowley lived in this building. Heavens, he didn't know where Crowley lived at all. He had never needed to know, they either met incognito in parks, bus shelters, museums or Crowley would come find him at his bookshop. The demon was dishevelled and angry, and somehow glorious. No, Aziraphale scolded himself, demons could not be glorious, and he turned determinedly back to the page in front of him.

Crowley was still staring dumbfounded at the group in front of him, his eyes almost transfixed on Aziraphale in the middle, the way the angel squirmed under his gaze before hiding his face in the familiar comfort of paper. For a moment Crowley felt sorry for Aziraphale, how was he to know where he lived? If he had he wouldn't have let this happen. Then Crowley frowned, as much at himself as the singers, that didn't matter, these people thought it was acceptable to interrupt other people's lives with their incessant noise. That was just rude.

Without further ado Crowley slammed the door shut in their faces, leaving both angel and demon free to deeply bury their fleeting thoughts.


	7. Snow

Crowley rubbed his hands together as he waited in the queue for the little truck, he needed coffee. He needed a lot of coffee. There were still another two people in front of them to place their orders, and it was frightfully cold, a thick layer of snow still covered the park like a blanket. If it wasn't so blisteringly cold he might be able to appreciate the aesthetics, but no. He was in no mood to appreciate anything right now.

He turned to glare at Aziraphale and their young charge. Why had the angel insisted on outdoor field study today? Aziraphale hated the cold just as much as - if not more than - him, not that the angel would admit to hating anything that was part of the divine creation. Crowley knew Aziraphale well enough to know the truth, though.

Currently Aziraphale was helping Warlock build a snowman, encouraging the young man to put in a good effort, let his artistic side flourish and blossom. Crowley rolled his eyes, but thankfully Warlock was still of an age where playing in the snow was fun no matter what your tutor was trying to encourage. Warlock was having a blast, unperturbed by the cold and he had just finished rolling a ball of snow half his height to make into the head, which Aziraphale had to help him lift as the body was already as big as the young boy.

Finally Crowley was able to place his order, which soon resulted in a warm cup of coffee in each hand and he turned back to his companions. By now Warlock had managed - or disobeyed - to convince Aziraphale to let him take some branches to make arms and fashioned a face out of smaller twigs. It was lopsided and Crowley wasn't convinced that it looked much like a snowman out of any of the stories and tales he'd seen, but in a weird kind of way he was proud that Warlock's lack of finesse leant the snowman a slightly deranged look.

As Crowley passed Aziraphale one of the two mugs Warlock had abandoned the snowman and had plopped into one of the larger snow drifts to make a snow angel. "Did I miss anything?" Crowley asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You have been a bad influence on the boy." Aziraphale lamented. "Look at what he did to those hedges." He added, waving at the snowman's arms.

"I thought you wanted him to be creative."

"I would prefer he do that without destroying living things."

Crowley shrugged as they both took a long sip of warm beverage, it barely tasted of coffee, but neither cared, the entire point was for the heat. Aziraphale was busy watching Warlock, which meant Crowley was free to look around at the people around them. After Aziraphale had been left unsupervised with the boy it was his turn to take over his education, starting with some fun mischief. There were other children in the park today, a couple here and there with parents and tutors similar to them, and one school group. He crouched as if to check on his shoe, and scooped up a healthy amount of snow and padded it into a loose snowball - he'd do a better job if he had two free hands, but it would do - and tossed it with just enough force to thump into the shoulder of the child at the back of the school group.

The child whipped around instantly, searching for the cause, and Crowley caught his eye and subtly nodded toward Warlock, who by now had sat up and was contemplating his next move. That move was quickly made for him when he spotted the snowball coming his way and he ducked quickly, turning to his tutors, Mr Cortese looked horrified and appalled, but Mr Harrison just nodded knowingly. Warlock grinned and gathered up his own snow and hurtled his retaliation.

Because neither child had good aim they had soon made accidental targets out of a number of other children and soon it was all out snowy warfare across the park. Delighted screams and giggles as frantic teachers and parents tried to regain control of the situation.

"You are terrible." Aziraphale observed, neither angel or demon moving to recover their charge.

"It's a talent." Crowley grinned into his cup.


	8. Mistletoe

The argument didn't matter, frankly, even the best of friends are likely to argue like fiends over the course of a few thousand years. An angel and a demon who had no other constant in their world than the other... well.

Whatever it was that Aziraphale had just uttered, half stammered with an awkward inclination of his head as he said something he found distasteful and uncomfortable, made Crowley all but growl with frustration as he raised his hands to emphasise the point he was about to make, before reigning himself in with clenched fists as he turned to stalk away. Just as quickly he turned back to point an accusatory finger at Aziraphale. "You - !" He trailed off with another frustrated noise at the unhappy and bashful look on Aziraphale's face, it had an instant effect on him that didn't temper his anger but stopped him from deliberately hurting the angel just to get even.

Crowley ran a frustrated hand through his own hair as he half turned from Aziraphale, who was twisting his fingers together as he did when he was nervous, his gaze shifting quickly between the floor, his hands and the demon in front of him, not daring to look at any too long in case he either missed something or was caught looking. His peripheral vision caught the way Crowley's foot was twitching and tapping in similar discomfort. As Aziraphale chanced a glance at Crowley the demon seemed to deflate with a click of his tongue. "Ah, hell." He muttered, as if it were a decision he hated before he made it.

Before Aziraphale could scold him for blasphemy in his presence, Crowley's hands had framed the angel's head and a pair of warm lips had claimed his own. Aziraphale stiffened in shock before the gentle, soft press coaxed him into willing surrender, and he returned the affection with his own lips, carefully and hesitantly as one of his hands rested lightly on Crowley's neck. After a moment they parted, quietly, as if neither dared to risk breaking this fragile thing, Aziraphale's free hand coming up to his mouth as if he still felt something there, not quite sure if he believed it really happened. He would expect Crowley to be more... demanding, dominating, maybe even forceful. Not something that sweet.

"We shouldn't have done that." Crowley was the first to break the silence after a long, lingering moment that passed between the two of them.

"Indeed we should not." Aziraphale agreed, trying to sound as if that settled the matter. Their hands falling away from the other as they both looked determinedly away from the other as if they could pretend it hadn't happened if they didn't remind themselves of the other. Both suddenly finding a multitude of fascinating objects and decorations around them.

Crowley finally chanced a look back at Aziraphale a wicked smirk finding a home on his face, a familiar look on the demon. "Want to do it again?" He challenged playfully, sinfully.

Aziraphale managed to pull on his best admonishing face, ready to tell Crowley exactly why they were both crossing so many lines that couldn't be undone, but as he opened his mouth he found himself unable to lie. He was an angel, it was not in him to lie. He decided words would lead to trouble, so instead the hand that had previously found it's way to Crowley's neck instead found a new home in the demon's hair.

Neither of them did ever happen to notice the mistletoe that hung nearby.


	9. Naughty or Nice?

Aziraphale had always assumed that if this line was crossed in reality, rather than a part of his mind he had always assumed he would deny existed, it would be because Crowley had relentlessly tempted him. And they were drunk.

Crowley had always assumed that if they really crossed this line, and he had thought about it often - and if he ever considered admitting it to anyone he would have said it was to boast that he'd made an angel fall - that it would be because they were both drunk.

Neither had imagined it would be because they were just so damn... happy.

"Will you just unlock the doors? It's cold!" Aziraphale grumbled, sharing dinner together at Christmas had become a tradition since they had taken it upon themselves to guide young Warlock, and they had just left the restaurant and because of the cold Aziraphale had made purposeful walk back to Crowley's Bentley, but the demon had taken too much pleasure in swaggering after him in a deliberate dawdle.

"I'm not letting you into my car without me." Crowley scoffed as if Aziraphale had insulted both demon and car, and Aziraphale briefly reflected he probably had. He'd have to check the glove box, check on what albums Crowley thought he could keep this time. "Besides, I thought you liked nature."

"I like the plants, and the creatures, and the wonder of creation."

"Is the weather not part of the wonder of creation?" Crowley teased, and Aziraphale dropped his gaze to avoid the scrutiny of the demon, and the deliberate saunter of Crowley's hips caught his eye, and his frustration flashed anew. He really needed to stop thinking about that. "You know, you could just snap your fingers and it would be as warm as a tropical beach." Crowley added as he finally joined Aziraphale at the car, fully aware of the angel's gaze mere moments ago.

Aziraphale looked back up at Crowley, surprised that the demon's face was quite so close to his own, and he swallowed. "I think that might get the attention of our superiors." He reminded him.

Crowley had to give him that as he nodded absent-mindedly, he had rather been hoping for Aziraphale to say something that would allow him to make some terrible jokes about stripping off, just to see him squirm and flush. Wait - hoping? No, he scolded himself, not hoping, taking advantage of opportunities that yielded good results for the both of them. He was not hoping for more. "We could just tell them it's global warming, I doubt they've troubled themselves over the science over the last few decades."

"I thought you started rumour that as a practical joke?"

"Yeah, but they don't know that." Crowley replied with a conspiratorial wiggle of his eyebrows and Aziraphale couldn't stop his chuckle, before catching himself. He wasn't supposed to endorse this behaviour.

"You are... terrible." Aziraphale decided instead, his chuckle not entirely dissipated.

"And you love it." Crowley retorted with his usual arrogant bravado as he leant backwards slightly so his head rocked back over the roof of the car. Chancing a sideways glance at Aziraphale who didn't correct him, didn't agree with him either, but his lips were twitching as if to start smiling. Crowley's lips did too, wanting to smirk at how well they could read each other that they might as well have their own code. The moment lingering over both of them.

Until Aziraphale broke it with a sigh. "Are you going to take me home, yet?"

Crowley pushed himself upright again and moved in front of Aziraphale, leaning close. "Is that what you want?" It was barely more than a whisper, and Aziraphale swallowed his eyes flicking between Crowley's eyes and lips. It felt like an eternity, yet like no time at all, before Aziraphale nodded as his fingers curled into Crowley's belt and Crowley's fingertip trailed along Aziraphale's jaw before their lips found each others. Once they were pressed snugly against each other Aziraphale's fingers left Crowley's belt and found the demon's back to hold him close as Crowley's hands stayed on the angel's jaw, leading their kiss with gentle but purposeful caresses, his tongue teasing Azriaphale's lips before slipping into his mouth.

When they parted - both panting hard - they had entirely forgotten about the cold, pressed together against the door of Crowley's Bentley. Their eyes met, and a flash of shared thought passed between them, and the car beeped as Crowley finally unlocked it.

The events that got them back to Aziraphale's bookshop - more specifically the little apartment above it where he lived - were unimportant to both angel and demon. Crowley didn't even care to realise that he'd never even been up here before, normally if they met at the bookshop and required privacy they'd just use the backroom. He was entirely focused on Aziraphale - who was leading him to his bedroom, opening the door to let him in before shutting it behind him. The space that had opened between them since leaving the car had allowed Aziraphale's more reserved nature to surface, preventing him from seeking Crowley's touch out.

In a rare display Crowley's expression softened as he removed his sunglasses, turning to Aziraphale and gently raising his face so their eyes met. "Do you want to do this?" Crowley asked softly.

Aziraphale scoffed. "You're a demon, what's to actually stop you taking what you want?"

Crowley looked stung, that hurt. "I _tempt_ people. I don't force them to do anything." He corrected, slightly bitterly. Why would an angel know the difference, and why did he expect that Aziraphale would have worked it out after four thousand years? "I manipulate circumstances to make people more likely to act on their darker urges. I have never once made someone do something they don't want to, and I don't plan on starting now."

Aziraphale dropped his gaze out of guilt, and Crowley sighed and moved away, taking up a seat on the edge of the bed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry." Aziraphale whispered after a moment, finally chancing a look at the man in front of him, who's head snapped up. "I shouldn't..." He sighed and took a seat next to Crowley. He was an angel, hurting people was the exact opposite of his nature - or so it was supposed to be -, and he would make it right when he got that wrong. "I'm not supposed to want this, but that doesn't mean I can use you as an excuse to get what I want without the guilt." He explained ruefully, sliding one of his hands over Crowley's.

"I'm not supposed to want this either." Crowley replied with a wry smirk, squeezing the angel's hand.

Aziraphale chuckled once, meeting the other man's gaze again. "I know." He agreed. "I'm sorry." He apologised properly.

"Did you really think I'd..?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "No, not really."

"And do you really want to do this..?"

Aziraphale blushed. "Yes."

"Good, because so do I." Crowley half growled, before using the hand that wasn't in Aziraphale's to use the angel's tie to tug him towards him so he could steal more kisses. Aziraphale was beyond pretending he didn't want this, and mewled in the back of his throat as their kisses became more urgent, their lips insistent and more demanding than before.

When Aziraphale's tentative tongue brushed against Crowley's lips the demon opened up eagerly, resisting the urge to plunder the angel's mouth and letting the other man explore whilst his hands busied themselves with the tie, making a valiant effort of blindly undoing the knot before Aziraphale pulled back to help before his clothes were ruined. Crowley smirked as his eyes darkened as they roamed over Aziraphale as he neatly and assiduously set to undoing his suit, the demon - however - practically shrugged out of his own clothes, loosening them just enough to get them off. Four thousand years seemed like plenty long enough, though both knew that these feelings hadn't existed back then, neither could pin-point when exactly they'd started to flourish either. Aziraphale briefly fretted about where Crowley had literally kicked his shoes before his breath caught as he turned to admonish the demon, who was now lounging across his bed completely naked, relaxed, confident, hard and so... sexy. Crowley caught Aziraphale staring as he folded his arms behind his head on the pillow. "Are you joining me?" He teased with a knowing smirk, his eyes flicking appreciatively over the topless angel in front of him; a delicious and nearly irresistible sight.

Aziraphale hadn't been aware he could undress that quickly - short of a miracle - and moments later he was kneeling next to Crowley on the bed as equally naked as the demon. Crowley's hands started at Azriaphale's hips, trailing gently and firmly up the angel's back before using the grip on his shoulders to pull him back down for another kiss, this time his tongue was requesting entrance and Aziraphale granted it allowing their tongues to tangle in their dance once again, stroking and sucking as their hands started exploring each others bodies. Crowley with a surer touch, Aziraphale more nervous but no less enthusiastic.

As Crowley became fascinated by the way Aziraphale's breath would hitch and he'd desperately try not to shiver as the demon toyed with his nipples - small and flat, but pebbled from cold and arousal - Aziraphale's hands had wandered to the demon's thighs, teasingly close to Crowley's obvious arousal, but not straying close enough, even when Crowley arched his hips towards Aziraphale, silently begging him for more. Crowley's eyes flicked back to Aziraphale's face, and as the angel subconsciously licked his lips as he saw a drop of pre-cum slowly slide down the demon's cock, Crowley surged up as his tenuous grasp on control snapped. In one swift movement he tugged Aziraphale's face to his to claim his lips in a fiery kiss and twisted them so that he loomed over the angel, pulling away to stop their teeth knocking on the impact and loosing his breath at the hooded look on the angel's face, a sudden need to make that expression permanent. One of Crowley's hands lightly traced his fingernails up the inside of Aziraphale's thighs, and he could've sworn he heard the angel whine - but Aziraphale would deny that until the end of ineffability - before gently cupping the heavy sac and enjoying Aziraphale's tortured groan as he arched towards the demon's touch, gently rolling and massaging whilst the demon's other hand curled around Aziraphale's cock, thumb swirling over the sensitive tip, spreading the fluid he found there and pumping slowly - tantalisingly slowly - and Aziraphale wasn't sure he could draw breath anymore as he felt his body quiver as the pleasure flowed through him. Watching the way Aziraphale reacted and surrendered to his touch, Crowley felt almost uncomfortably hot, his own arousal bordering on pain as it begged for attention, he pushed down the temptation to stroke his own shaft in time with the way he was teasing the angel, and leant forward to swirl his tongue over the head of Aziraphale's. The angel's eyes shot open in surprise, catching Crowley's before the demon repeated the movement deliberately and Aziraphale was reduced to sensation again. "My dear..." He groaned his hips arching towards the touch, and Crowley smirked again before holding him down with one hand and drawing the angel's erection into his hot, wet mouth, practically moaning himself at the taste.

Aziraphale's head was blissfully empty as all he could think about was the way Crowley started slowly drawing him in and releasing him from that delicious mouth, the way his fingers were still perfectly playing with his sac. The demon started to fall into a rhythm as he bobbed his head, alternating swirling motions of his tongue with harder sucks, driving the angel mad beneath him, the thought of the angel's climax making his own arousal throb urgently with need. The more Crowley gave the tenser Aziraphale became beneath him, constantly groaning and moaning as he both resisted and sought more of the pleasure, he never wanted the demon to stop. As Aziraphale's muscles started to tremble with the tension, Crowley's fingers rubbed over his perineum as the demon hummed and with a choked cry he came down the demon's throat, his entire body pulsing with pleasure as Crowley held him there, gently coaxing every last sensation and every last buzz of pleasure from him before releasing him and crawling back up Aziraphale's trembling body, his thin pupils blown wide with desire.

Aziraphale couldn't help his sated chuckle as Crowley nuzzled kisses against his neck, playfully nipping at the angel's collarbone and up towards his ear. The angel twisted his own head to trace the shell of the demon's ear with his own tongue, enjoying the way it stopped him in his tracks with a barely concealed gasp, his head bowing down to allow him greater access to tease, nibbling on the lobe, sucking before giving the rest the same treatment. All the while his hands were slowly slipping down Crowley's back where he was still braced above him, thumbs rubbing firm circles into the small of the demon's back, enjoying the way that made him buck, his hot erection rubbing against both their stomachs, before his hands drifted lower still, groping the firm arse he found, kneading the flesh causing Crowley to rock into his touch with a tortured groan, pressing himself into Aziraphale's hands whilst trying to get some friction against his rock hard cock. Aziraphale took pity on him, nudging the demon's head to the other side of his neck so he could give his other ear the same treatment he'd just finished laving on the first, before letting on hand drift between their bodies, and Crowley eagerly pulled back just enough to give the angel room to play. That first touch was a feather-light tease, making Crowley growl in frustration and Aziraphale retaliated by nipping at his ear again and wrapping his engorged, weeping shaft in a firm grip. A bolt of pleasure shot down the angel's spine as Crowley made a wounded yet relieved sound of pure pleasure. Letting his tongue flick up the demon's ear Aziraphale relaxed his grip slightly and started pumping his hand up and down, a steady yet increasing rhythm as his hand grew slicker with Crowley's excitement.

Crowley was soon trembling where he held himself above Aziraphale, who was busy playing his body as if he'd always known how to, firm strokes of his soft hand that always brushed over the sensitive tip, making him groan against the angel's neck as he licked and sucked on his ear the combination sending pleasure up and down his spine. His hips were rocking in time with Aziraphale's strokes, chasing the fire and silently begging for more and increasing the angel's confidence, and causing desire to stir low in his belly again. As Crowley started to curse under his breath Aziraphale's other hand wandered, and just as he sucked on Crowley's earlobe one of his fingers brushed over his opening - not dipping inside, just teasing and circling. The innocent touch in a deeply intimate area shot an erotic image of Aziraphale buried deep inside him through Crowley's mind, and a shockwave of heat travelled down his spine to pool in his groin as his climax slammed into him, groaning into the angel's neck as his whole body shook with the consuming pleasure as he coated them both in a rush of sticky heat before his arms gave out and he collapsed onto the angel, who happily wrapped his arms around the demon and held him close.

Eventually Crowley managed to control his spent muscles to roll off Aziraphale before he crushed the other man, but the angel was determined to cuddle him, so he just rolled to the side and allowed Aziraphale to stay tucked up against him. Another few moments and the angel winced. "What's wrong?" Crowley asked.

"We've made a terrible mess, we can't sleep like this." Aziraphale muttered.

Crowley was suddenly laughing, freely and joyfully. "Next you'll be complaining your suit is rumpled." He teased, and Aziraphale spared him a scolding look. Crowley just turned a devilish smirk on the angel. "I've got many more ways of making a mess." He added suggestively making Aziraphale blush. "And shower sex... definitely shower sex."

Aziraphale felt more than just his face heat up at that remark, before letting the realisation of their new intimacy sink in. "Hm." He hummed contentedly. "That sounds like a promising idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lilitia: Well, I can't remember the last time I wrote smut I actually shared with anyone. And I've never written M/M before. So I will happily take constructive criticism on this and update it if necessary.


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